


Healing

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-11 08:23:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter the severity, Anduin Wrynn heals Wrathion's injuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mild

"It’s just a little graze, Wrathion."

"But it  _hurts_!” Wrathion glared into the passively amused face of Anduin Wrynn. He wasn’t taking it  _seriously_. The presented injury was hurting him dearly! Didn’t he know he could get diseases from having his bloodstream open to the air? Or worse, accidentally animate rocks by having his blood fall on them?

Anduin’s face softened as Wrathion’s distress continued to be evident in his petulant pout. He could see it was upsetting the dragon, even if it wasn’t that serious an injury. “Okay. Seeing as it’s bothering you so much.” _  
_

He gently laid his hands either side of the ripped satin cloth of Wrathion’s trouser knee, then closed his eyes and steadied his breath. The Light came easily as always - but he suspected it was expedited even further by the affection he felt for the whelp, so clever yet so silly, that he was healing. Wrathion’s scowl softened as the spell took effect, healing the shallow wound to its core and pushing the grit embedded into it out so Anduin could dust it away.

Wrathion looked aside, sheepish as always when he’d had to ask for some sort of gift rather than entering into a deal of some kind - or simply taking it. “… thank you, Prince Wrynn.”


	2. Severe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No character death I promise. Dissociation. Also, in case it isn’t clear: he got stabbed in the stomach, and left for dead. He doesn’t know where Left and Right are.

It was a bright day. The sky was deep blue, clouds crossing it at a brisk walk while the wind coursed over Wrathion’s face. The grass to the sides of his cheeks was vibrant and cool. He breathed in, and out; then felt a soft hand at his cheek, a familiar voice at his ear.

"Anduin Wrynn," he smiled, tilting his face.

Anduin sounded far away as he shouted Wrathion’s name, shouted so many things. Wrathion closed his eyes, briefly; he was beginning to feel cold, he had to admit - except for the heat blooming from his stomach. Oh, not heat. Hurt. He’d deal with it later. He just wanted to stay in the grass a little longer.

He closed his eyes again, feeling something warm and wet drip onto his cheek. He opened them and looked up into Anduin’s desperate face. Oh, he was beautiful. His golden hair surrounded his face like a halo with the sun behind him - no, that wasn’t the sun… the Light, coursing through him. Why was..? He didn’t…

Anduin pressed his hands into Wrathion’s shoulders and cast the spell. And at once Wrathion’s mind cleared, and everything sharpened - everything, the stab in his stomach included, and he was about to cry out when it was replaced with nothing but cosy warmth where moments ago there had been creeping cold.

Anduin kissed him, desperate and sad, and the spell only intensified; Wrathion felt tears spring to his eyes even as the wound was healed, and he brought one heavy-seeming arm up to caress the back of Anduin’s head. His hair was always so soft.

He let his hand fall to the ground again. He was still tired, but he wasn’t cold any more. He was safe. He felt Anduin’s arms encircle him, pull him upright, lift him - the gentle rhythm of Anduin’s uneven steps lulled his eyes closed again, though the bright sunlight still shone through.


End file.
